It’s not unsubstantiated. It’s justified. It could happen.
If it happened to Emily and Nolan, then why not us?
Every time I close my eyes and try to sleep, I see it happen. I watch it play out. I see someone in the woods just outside our cottage, standing tall, thin, featureless like Slenderman, unnoticeable in the darkness and in the trees. I watch him advance slowly, slipping unseen past the police officer. In my musings, he walks with confidence and poise. He steps out of the trees, quietly climbing the deck steps, picking the lock to the front door. Coming in. Killing every single one of us, one at a time, while the rest of us watch, paralyzed, helpless.
Time moves by in slow motion. I check the time on my phone. Midnight. One o’clock. Sometime just after two, I hear a faint sound coming from somewhere in the house. I slip out from under Cass’s leaden arm, which is flung across my chest. I sit up in bed, holding my breath, listening while my mind goes to the worst things it can think of: to someone circling the house, creeping around the periphery of the cottage to find a way in, and I wonder if Elliott remembered to close all the windows like he said he was going to do. I wonder if he remembered to lock them. The windows have sash locks. I know because our first night here, I went around the cottage unlocking and throwing them all open for fresh air.
But what if Elliott missed a window or if he didn’t slide the lever all the way into the catch?
I lift the covers. I rise from bed, moving across the wood floors in my bare feet, scared and wishing that Elliott wasn’t allthe way upstairs. It seems like whenever I need him, he’s not here.
I stop before the bedroom door. I set my hand on the doorframe, summoning the courage to step out and see what the noise is.
It’s Wyatt. When I come out of the bedroom, I find him sitting up on the sofa bed, the soft glow of his phone lighting up his face, making it ghostly.
“Can’t you sleep?” I ask, whispering, relief brimming over as I step out into the room with him.
“Nope.”
“Do you need anything?” I stand there, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. “Wyatt,” I ask again.
He looks up, his face inscrutable in the dark, and I’m not sure if he’s going to tell me to fuck off, to break down and cry, to ask me to stay and keep him company, or something else.
His eyes drop again to his phone.
“What is it, Wyatt?” I ask. “What are you looking at on your phone?”
They rise back up.
He says, “I know where Reese is.”
Reese
His eyes are dark, like melted chocolate, like black tea. I dissolve in them. He steps out of the trees, running a hand through his dark hair, moving it, though it falls right back into place. He smells like sweat, bug spray and weed. His t-shirt has the name of the resort on it, which is how I know he isn’t like me, that he works here.
“Hey,” he says, grinning, his gaze cutting and intense.
I can’t help myself. I smile because something about his is contagious.
I say, “Hey,” standing there in my bikini and slides in the woods, one foot on top of the other.
“I saw you yesterday, at your cottage. What’s your name?”
“Reese.”
“Reese?”
“Yeah,” I say, “like the candy,” wishing I could take it back the second it leaves my mouth.Like the candy.I could die. “What’s yours?” I ask.
“Daniel.” I say it in my mind. I wonder if he ever goes by Dan or Danny, or if it’s always Daniel. “Is your mom always like that?” he asks.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He pauses. “A nag.”
The corners of his mouth pull up. I smile too. Because, for maybe the first time in my life, someone gets me. Someone sees the world the way I see it.
“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “Pretty much.”
